


beneath the rising sun

by florentines



Category: NCT (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roller Derby, F/F, M/M, Multi, Switching Perspectives, but also barista! hyuck, fluff that will probably give you a minor cavity, hyuck shouldn’t be allowed outside around other humans he is a class 4 health hazard, jammer! hyuck, pivot! mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florentines/pseuds/florentines
Summary: hyuck is the jammer whose hips taunt mark by night, but he’s also the cheery barista who doodles on mark’s coffee cups by dayalternatively titled:have you seen zooey deschanel without her bangs??





	beneath the rising sun

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of like one of those "you've got mail" set-ups but with roller derby names instead of online usernames. speaking of roller derby, if you aren't familiar with the sport, please check out [this link](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roller_derby) or the author's note at the end! i wanted this fic to be relatively accessible without prior roller derby knowledge though, so do let me know if i'm getting too into the particulars of gameplay at any point in my writing. happy reading!

Donghyuck curses quietly when he feels a sharp elbow dig into his side, inwardly groaning at the referee’s almost intentional lack of diligence when it came to penalizing the opposing team. His bones vibrate with the thrum of nine pairs of quad skates bearing down on him against the smooth cement, the clash of skate guards and knee pads like music to his ears. The world rushes past him in an exhilarating blur of converging colors, the harsh stadium lights casting an otherworldly quality to the otherwise gritty rink. 

 

Then, the illusion breaks, and everything comes crashing down.

 

A swarm of blockers suddenly engulfs him and Donghyuck stumbles, barely avoiding dashing his skull against the side of the raised track. He throws a quick glance over his shoulder and is gratified to see Doyoung and Jeno holding strong, arms locked in a defensive stance against 127’s relentless jammer, Tuxedo Mask. Doyoung looks up from the teeming mess of limbs and nods, giving Donghyuck a thumbs up, his eyes glinting resolutely under the fluorescent lights. Whipping his head back around, Donghyuck tightens his skating form and prepares to make an attempt at breaking through 127’s three-person wall, already bracing himself for the impact. 

 

However, before he can even take another stride, Donghyuck feels strong arms wrap around his waist, lifting him into the air. The track twists upside down within his line of vision and he panics, kicking his legs against the other player’s chest. The other boy lets out a surprised  _ oof _ and releases him preemptively, sending Donghyuck crashing towards the center of the rink. The crowd immediately roars in outrage, several onlookers standing up and motioning wildly for the referee to penalize #14 for his foul. The selectively blind referee finally gets his shit together and blows his whistle, motioning for 127’s Apeach to sit out in the penalty box. Donghyuck shakily gets up, dusting off his legs and shooting a withering glare at Apeach, who gives him a bright, shit-eating grin in response. 

 

“Sorry, not sorry!” the other boy calls out from the bench, blowing him a kiss and looking entirely unapologetic about his foul. Donghyuck pointedly ignores him and spins around on his heels, skating unsteadily back to the jammer line. 

 

Once he’s settled into a proper starting position, he looks up at the timer and grimaces, internally berating himself for not taking advantage of his lead when he had it. Now, there are only twenty seconds left in the jam, and Donghyuck’s not sure that he can close the point gap in such a small amount of time.  _ Better to go out kicking and screaming than complacent _ , Donghyuck thinks to himself before toeing the neon green tape and getting ready to launch himself into the fray once more. 

 

The rest of the jam passes by smoothly, with Donghyuck managing to pull two grand slams despite the burning pain in his legs before the referee puffs on his whistle twice to signal the end of the first half. His side of the stadium cheers loudly when the referee announces the score, elated at the one-point difference. This game was supposed to be the deciding qualifier for the area quarterfinals, and Dream had been one win short heading into the match, with five other teams vying for a spot in the play-offs as well. Winning would mean entry into the final few rounds, something they had missed by just a hair in the previous season. 

 

During halftime, Donghyuck takes a moment to catch his breath on the bench and survey the stands. He snorts when his eyes catch on a dark-haired girl excitedly waving a large fluorescent yellow banner inscribed with the phrase “dicks out for full sun” on one side and “full sun blinds his opponents” on the other in pink puff paint, flipping her the bird before turning back to his teammates. 

 

Kim Yerim really was one of a kind—as in, she was one of a kind of a specific brand of sadistic lunatic who seemed to enjoy embarrassing Donghyuck at every chance she got with a perverse sort of pleasure that could only come from knowing someone for sixteen years. They’d been best friends ever since she pushed Donghyuck off the swings as a four-year-old and he pulled her down with him by the pigtails, and honestly, their dynamic hasn’t really changed since. For some mysterious reason, Yerim had also insisted on being the president of his fanclub when he started derby, claiming that she needed to “protect him from all of the creepy old men who were just waiting to prey on his oblivious five-year-old self”. Yerim’s words, not his. 

 

Donghyuck knew he was a popular player amongst local roller derby fans, but he had always attributed it to his skills more so than his looks, regardless of Yerim’s coughs that always sounded suspiciously like jabs at how short his shorts were. Admittedly, he was a bit of a flirt in the rink, but if he secretly enjoyed sending boys sprawling onto the track with a strategically-placed sway of his hips, so crucify him. Regardless of her reservations, Yerim was always over at his apartment at six o’clock sharp before games, helping him apply his signature gold glitter to his eyelids and fussing over his hair clips with all the tutting of a mother hen. 

 

On his right, Jaemin nudges him and offers him a strawberry from a small tupperware, effectively pulling Donghyuck out of his Yerim-induced thought spiral. Without thinking, Donghyuck happily tugs the strawberry over with the other boy’s hand still attached, closing his lips over the ruby red fruit with a blissed-out smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Donghyuck catches 127’s Canada watching and playfully swipes his tongue over the pads of Jaemin’s fingers, his grin sharpening at the edges. Jaemin shoves him off of the bench with a shriek, indignantly screeching something along the lines of  _ you slobber like a dog _ and  _ I have a boyfriend, you ass _ . Said boyfriend (Jeno) glances in their direction with one eyebrow raised, not even bothering to pause in his water-chugging to comfort his distressed partner. Across the rink, Canada pinks when he realizes that he’d been caught watching, his blush progressively deepening to a bright red when Donghyuck throws him a smirk. 

 

Johnny coughs loudly, having observed the whole interaction, and Donghyuck guiltily turns back around to see his two best friends now conversing with Doyoung, their heads bent together over Doyoung’s formation notebook. After a few moments of hushed murmuring in which everyone seems to come to a consensus, Doyoung beckons him over, his eyes serious.

 

“I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but you just took a really bad spill, and I want you to take it easy.” Doyoung begins, holding up a finger when Donghyuck opens his mouth to protest. “Zeus and Takoyaki Prince are already worn out, and I can practically hear Canada coughing up a lung from over here. 127’s out of practice, and I think we’ll be fine if we just stick to defensive formation six and try a little bit harder to gain on them score-wise.” Doyoung finishes, his tone implying that he would take no objections. Donghyuck turns to look at the other three incredulously, and Jeno at least has the decency to look slightly apologetic. 

 

Johnny just reaches forward and ruffles Donghyuck’s hair, adding on quietly, “I know you’re upset about this, but you know Doyoung’s only making you slow down because he cares about you. Don’t forget that, okay?” 

 

At this, Donghyuck deflates, the fight leaving his body. Doyoung had been his first and only mentor in roller derby, and the other boy had been the one to teach Donghyuck how to properly skate his first semester of freshman year (He had also been the one to buy Donghyuck his first pair of obscenely short biking shorts, claiming that they would allow him a “greater range of motion”. Doyoung hadn’t been wrong, necessarily, but to his chagrin, he also hadn’t anticipated the effect Donghyuck’s legs would have on the other players. Donghyuck called it a “strategic advantage”—Jaemin called it “blatant public indecency”.). He was the closest thing Donghyuck had to an older brother, and at the end of the day, he would always concede to Doyoung, his respect for the older boy greater than any annoyance he might have had. 

 

The referee blows the whistle twice, commencing the second half of the game, and Donghyuck allows a small smile to slip onto his face, flashing a peace sign at his team before skating off to the jammer line. 

  
  


*

 

Donghyuck doesn’t want to admit it, but Doyoung had been right. Although they had been hard-pressed to win over points from 127 in the first half, the other team seemed to have lost a lot of steam during halftime, their movements becoming slower and more delayed as they progressed from the first jam to the second. By the time they reached the seventh jam, the entirety of 127 was out of breath and Donghyuck was running on autopilot, not even bothering to bat an eyelash when he hip-bumped Zeus and sent the boy careening into the railing to a standing ovation from the left side of the stadium. It was a dirty trick, but also technically legal according to the rules of gameplay, and Donghyuck didn’t feel particularly bad about it after his knees were still smarting from Apeach’s earlier foul.

 

He swivels around to gloat about it to Jaemin, who is lazily blocking Tuxedo Mask’s attempts to pass him with an utterly disinterested look on his face, when he is unceremoniously shoved to the side of the track by a chestnut-haired boy with a determined look in his eyes and red racing stripes bright against his cheeks.  _ Oh, Canada _ . 

 

Righting his stance, Donghyuck tilts his head to look at the other boy coyly, giving him a wink before throwing all of his weight to the left side of his body, causing Canada to stumble out of bounds with a yelp. Donghyuck smirks and glides away, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back until he hears the satisfying pop of his spine realigning. Distantly, he hears another crash behind him and looks back, trying to stifle his laugh when he sees Canada’s dumbfounded expression from his position on the ground. Doyoung skates by and flicks Donghyuck in the forehead, reminding the jammer to focus on the game, regardless of whatever technical advantage they had over 127 now. Donghyuck rolls his eyes and acquiesces, racing ahead to edge out Tuxedo Mask for the position of lead jammer.

 

The game ends with a surprisingly close score of 199 to 201, mostly due to Jaemin’s truly excessive amount of dirty plays and even dirtier language during the last two jams of the match. Doyoung’s lips are pressed tightly into a thin line when he pulls Jaemin out of the penalty box by the ear, the stadium echoing with the thunderous roar of Dream fans celebrating their team’s qualification to the quarterfinals. Jeno puts his hand on Doyoung’s arm and gives him a pleading look, causing the other boy to release Jaemin with an exasperated sigh. 

 

“We still won though, hyung!” Jaemin protests, rubbing sullenly at his ear. Doyoung stares him down for a few terrifying seconds before breaking out into a reluctant grin, his eyes betraying his happiness. Donghyuck whoops and jumps onto Johnny’s back, letting out a giddy laugh when Johnny flips him over and twirls him around. He tries to not to be bothered by the fact that 127 already had such a good standing in the brackets that they were going straight to the semifinals anyway, but something must show, because when Doyoung looks at him, the older boy says, “Don’t worry, we’re going to crush them again in the semis”, as if he had read Donghyuck’s mind.

 

“Bubble tea to celebrate?” Johnny asks, tossing Doyoung his keys and bending down to untie his skates. “It’s on me.” Jaemin and Jeno cheer loudly at that, looping their arms through Donghyuck’s and pulling him out the side entrance into the throngs of people flooding out of the stadium. Doyoung trails behind them hesitantly, keys spinning on his pointer finger, his mind probably still on the research proposal he had yet to finish for tomorrow. 

 

After properly removing his skates, Johnny looks up, bewildered at the sudden disappearance of his teammates. His expression morphs into one of betrayal when he realizes that the other boys had left their practice duffels behind for him to carry. Sighing, he grabs two bags with his left hand and shoulders the other three on his right, smiling fondly at the starkly silhouetted figures of the other four boys against the backdrop of the dusty parking lot. 

  
  


*

 

Mark jolts awake to the sound of Beyonce’s “Formation” blasting at full volume, hands scrabbling on his nightstand for his phone. His eyes widen in horror when he sees the time, and his legs make an aborted attempt to propel the rest of his body out of bed, only for the tangle of blankets around his torso to bring him to the ground with a  _ thud _ . Wincing, Mark extracts himself from his duvet, rolling over onto the carpet with a loud exhale. He basks in the stillness for three whole seconds before his alarm starts up again, bringing him back to the disappointing reality of morning.

 

Last night had been interesting, to say the least. They hadn’t really practiced much leading up to the qualifier, as 127 had already been guaranteed a spot in the semifinals, but Mark still felt a small twinge of regret at their loss. His American Lit professor had bombarded him with paper after paper in the weeks leading up to the match, leaving him with nearly no time to even eat or sleep, let alone haul himself to the auxiliary gym for roller derby practice. His exhaustion, combined with Jaehyun’s overconfident posturing and Jungwoo’s pleading, had won Taeyong over for once, and the older boy had reluctantly agreed to cancel the few remaining practices they had before the game. Mark internally groans when he thinks of the scolding that they’re all going to get from Taeyong now, and he buries his face in his duvet as Yuta’s smug “told-you-so” smirk pops into his head. 

 

His mind drifts from his blunders during the first few jams to halftime, and Mark’s cheeks burn scarlet again when he remembers the almost challenging look in Full Sun’s eyes when the other boy had caught him staring from across the rink. Mark hadn’t meant to, really, but the glitter on his heavily-lidded eyes had been so mesmerizing that Mark didn’t even realize his gaze had traveled up from the other boy’s glossed lips until  _ oh, his eyes were even more captivating _ . His gold-flecked irises looked like they belonged to someone who didn’t take things at face value, who smirked with a suggestion of something more instead of smiling—who could devour you whole with a single glance. In the few moments of eye contact they shared, Mark felt as if his entire existence had been laid bare, and he wasn’t sure he necessarily disliked it. 

 

The worst part was, last night hadn’t even been the first time it had happened. 127 had already played Dream once in the prelims, and last semester, they had participated in the same scrimmage round-robin. Mark was no stranger to Nana and No Jam’s impenetrable blocks or Chicago Monster’s forceful breaks, but Full Sun still managed to catch him off-guard with his razor-edged smiles and careless winks. That, and the teasing tilt of the other boy’s head whenever he knocked Mark out of bounds, were probably going to be the end of Mark’s roller derby career.

 

Mark is once again shaken out of his train of thought by Beyonce’s persistent chanting, and he decides to finally get up from his blanket nest on the floor. He reaches over to pull on an oversized sweatshirt, the soft fabric a welcome weight on his shoulders, and pats blindly for his glasses on his nightstand. Mark inhales sharply when his hands come up empty, but his momentary panic is assuaged when his fingers find his wire-rimmed frames tucked safely into the pocket of his hoodie. He carefully sets them on his face, scrunching his nose when the edge of his glasses scrape against a cut on his cheek, fresh from last night’s game. 

 

After three minutes of frantic bandage-applying and washing up, Mark is out the door and into the bustling streets of Seoul’s university district, backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder. Naturally, almost of their own accord, his feet begin to take him in the opposite direction of the bus stop, and he stalls for a moment, considering. Was it worth running into American Lit even later to stop by his favorite coffee shop for a latte? Probably not, but Professor Kim could definitely live without a few extra minutes spent in the presence of his least-favorite student. And besides, he was going to be late anyways, so he might as well make it worth it. 

 

By the time he settles the matter in his mind, Mark finds himself in front of a sleek glass door, its varnished red handle glinting in the bright morning sun. He pushes open the door and enters, the cluster of bells above him jingling merrily to announce his arrival. A small smile finds it way to his lips as he inhales the heady scent of sugar and cinnamon swirling around the shop, the smell of freshly-baked pastries enveloping him in a warm embrace. 

 

“Welcome to Red Velvet Cakes and Coffee! What can I get started for you today?” a cheery voice calls out as Mark makes his way to the counter. Mark looks up, his smile widening involuntarily when he sees who it is. A cute copper-haired boy with a Sharpie tucked behind his ear bustles busily around the serving counter, preoccupied with rearranging the shop’s display of daily specials. A streusel-topped blueberry muffin and a beautifully-iced red velvet cupcake beckon him tantalizingly from within their small glass dome, and Mark glances wistfully in their direction before the financially responsible side of him kicks in. 

 

“I’ll have a-” Mark starts, hands searching his pockets for his wallet.

 

“Oh, it’s you!” The other boy exclaims, looking up from his rearranging. His name tag reads  _ Lee Donghyuck _ , like Mark didn’t already know that from his countless coffee runs over the past few months. “Medium double-shot latte, right?” Donghyuck asks, his lips quirking up when he sees Mark’s sheepish expression. 

 

“You’ve been coming in almost every day for the past few months, so don’t act all surprised that I have your order memorized.” he says playfully, grabbing the Sharpie from behind his ear and scribbling down Mark’s order on the back of a paper cup. He takes Mark’s money and motions for him to step aside to the pick-up counter, already spinning around to start prepping the espresso machine. 

 

“By the way, what happened to your face? I can’t have my favorite customer getting banged up all the time! It makes the store look bad when one of our most frequent regulars always comes in looking like he had his head shoved into a blender,” Donghyuck continues, the teasing lilt of his voice masking his worry. Mark sighs, his hand coming up to probe at his poorly-bandaged cut. 

 

“I got into a...fight?” Mark says, unsure of himself. He doesn’t really go around advertising that he plays roller derby, since people always had their own prejudices and stereotypes that they associated with the sport. Donghyuck didn’t seem like he’d be the type to judge, but Mark doesn’t want to risk it, especially when in his ideal world, he’d have the guts to finally ask the adorable barista standing in front of him out for dinner. His cheeks flush at the idea, and he can almost hear Jaehyun’s voice taunting him for being too much a wimp from some dark corner of his mind. 

 

“What’s a nerd like you getting into fights for?” asks Donghyuck, cutting into the slightly panicked haze of Mark’s thoughts. The espresso machine whirs to life, flooding the small space with the energizing scent of freshly ground coffee beans.

 

“That name-calling is unwarranted. Just because I wear glasses doesn’t mean I’m a nerd!” Mark protests half-heartedly, fiddling with a stirring straw. He’s hoping that Donghyuck will let the matter slide, since his sleep-addled brain is nowhere near the capacity it needs to be to spin out convincing enough lies. 

 

“Fine,” Donghyuck concedes, throwing him a look over his shoulder. “But that unabridged copy of  _ Moby Dick _ in your backpack definitely does.” Mark holds up his hands in surrender, acknowledging the other boy’s point with a pout. Donghyuck laughs lightly and picks up his Sharpie again, quickly scrawling something onto the side of Mark’s cup before handing it to him. 

 

“Make sure to take care of yourself, though, okay?” Donghyuck says, reaching over the counter to adjust Mark’s glasses. His fingers brush gently across the other boy’s cheekbones, and Mark’s heart catches in his throat, his cheeks pinking at the touch. When Donghyuck steps back, Mark notices that the tips of the other boy’s ears are red as well, although he tactfully chooses to ignore it and forge on. 

 

“I-I was actually wondering-” Mark stutters, his words jumbling together.  _ Get it together _ , a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jaehyun’s chides him mentally.  _ You’ve been waiting for months to ask him out—please grow a pair and just do it _ .

 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Donghyuck says, interrupting Mark’s miserable attempt at a full sentence. “This is for you!” He pulls out a perfectly frosted red velvet cupcake from behind the counter, already packed into a to-go box with a small red bow tied on top. Mark shoots the barista a confused glance, hesitantly taking the box from his outstretched hands.

 

“I didn’t pay for a cupcake,” Mark begins, already making to push the box back into Donghyuck’s hands. 

“I know you didn’t.” Donghyuck replies quickly, firmly grabbing both of Mark’s hands before he can return the cupcake out of courtesy. “It’s on me. I just thought you could use some sugar in your system, considering that your morning was already off to such a rough start. Also,  you’ve been eyeing this cupcake since you came in the door, and frankly, I was kind of offended, so just think of it as me getting rid of my competition. Okay?” Donghyuck finishes with a bright smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His hands are still warm against Mark’s wrists, and  _ oh _ , Mark’s heart suddenly feels overwhelmingly full, his mind struggling to keep up with the implications of what Donghyuck just said. 

 

“Thank you so much,” Mark manages to choke out before he sees something green flash by in the corner of his eye.  _ The bus _ , his brain helpfully supplies before the rest of his body kicks in, lurching backwards and stumbling towards the door. His wrists feel strangely cold, but Mark pushes the thought aside, choosing instead to focus on how he’s about to miss the bus and be inexcusably late to his American Lit lecture. 

 

“You better go catch that.” Donghyuck murmurs, eyes widening as he tracks the progress of the bus down the street. Mark nods vigorously before turning on his heels, rushing out the door of the shop with his coffee cup and pastry box clutched tightly to his chest. “Have a great day!” Donghyuck calls out to Mark’s receding figure, the door gently shutting behind him with a cheerful jingle. 

  
After several torturous blocks of running and a flurry of apologies to the bus driver, Mark finally makes his way onto the bus, plopping down into the first available seat. Pausing to catch his breath, he lifts up his coffee cup, checking for any spillage that may have occurred during his frantic dash for the bus. A smile slowly spreads across his face when his eyes catch on the little doodle Donghyuck had scrawled next to his order code. A messily rendered owl with large glasses and a band-aid on its cheek peers up at him, a little speech bubble with the phrase “take care!” floating beside it. Impulsively, Mark presses a quick kiss to the little owl on his cup, ignoring the judging stares of the gaggle of schoolgirls sitting across from him. _Someday, I’ll have the courage_ , Mark thinks to himself. But for now, if he goes through the rest of his day holding an empty coffee cup and wearing a spaced-out smile, nobody needs to know. 

**Author's Note:**

> and now, for a brief(ish) overview of roller derby:  
> \- roller derby is played on an oval track that can have either flat or raised/banked sides  
> \- each team consists of 5 players: 3 blockers, 1 jammer, and 1 pivot. the jammer is indicated by the star on their helmet cover, and the pivot is indicated by the stripe on theirs.  
> \- games are divided into halves, with each half consisting of as many jams as each team can fit into half an hour  
> \- a jam has a maximum duration of 2 minutes, in which the jammers of both teams try to lap all the players of the opposing team as many times as possible skating counterclockwise (1 point is awarded for each opposing team member passed after the initial lap)  
> \- the first jammer to complete a lap within a jam becomes the lead jammer, which means that they can end the jam at any time  
> \- blockers must play both offense and defense simultaneously, as they want their own jammer to pass through while obstructing the opposing team's jammer  
> \- the pivot is basically a blocker who acts as a jammer in a pinch via helmet cover exchange


End file.
